where dust lies thick enough to drown a rat,
and the walls creak on windless days when nobody's there.
Just don't go into the attic where the cat is;
we'll stay out of there, and maybe listen at the door
to its purring that never stops.
But we won't go in,
because this isn't the kind of dare where we do stupid things;
we're just going into the old house, like I said,
and we'll stay out of the attic.